Chapter 7: Bitter Tears

Chapter 7: Bitter Tears

Chapter 7:

Bitter Tears

T HE TEN-MINUTE COUNT for the interval had begun. On the monitor, the digital timer was counting down the seconds. Horikita, after defeating Hamaguchi and coming out unscathed, sat in her chair and waited for Kanzaki, the center. Even if Kanzaki came in within the ten-minute period, in essence, this was a break time until the countdown reached zero. In the meantime, Horikita was going over the rules for the special exam once more in her mind.

Centers started with seven Life Points. Excluding mistakes made by your opponent, up to three points could be taken away in a single move. While it was exceedingly natural to want to make the first move, there was risk involved in nominating at an early stage. That said, it was also true that if you passed consecutively, it meant you’d be falling behind. In fact, it was Hirata endeavoring to maintain a defensive stance that had led to his defeat. Horikita thought about what type of person Kanzaki Ryuuji was. It looked like he was, essentially, the same as Hirata and Hamaguchi, someone who emphasized defense, but…

“But there’s a good chance that he will launch an offensive to turn the tide…” mused Horikita, the words slipping through her lips unintentionally.

If an opponent were prepared to keep nominating regardless of the damage they’d incur, it would be difficult to avoid losing any points. If that happened, then Horikita’s battle with the general would become even tougher. Horikita put her mind to work, trying to produce some ideas to defeat Kanzaki while coming out unscathed. However, no matter how much thought she put into it, her options were limited.

Ultimately, you could say it was up to the eye whether one could spot who was cast into what role in the discussion to come. Or Horikita supposed that if she could guide her opponent well, and continue to cause them to pass…

Then, while Horikita still hadn’t solidified her plans for the next battle, the classroom door opened and Kanzaki appeared with just under four minutes remaining on the timer. Kanzaki, without a word, took a look around the classroom, sat down in an empty seat, and then took a breath.

“Hello. Let’s do our best,” said Horikita, essentially thinking that she ought to offer him somewhat of a greeting, but Kanzaki looked at Horikita with a grim expression on his face.

“Whose idea was it to have Ayanokouji be general?” he asked.

“That’s a very sudden question,” replied Horikita.

“Was it yours, Horikita? Or was it Ayanokouji’s, perhaps? Why did Ayanokouji accept? When was it decided?” asked Kanzaki.

Kanzaki interrogated Horikita intensely, sounding like he was going beyond the realm of asking questions, while staring at her so intensely that it seemed he was about to take a bite out of her.

“Our class is free to have whomever be the general, for whatever reason, chosen at any time. Isn’t that so?” replied Horikita.

“The Ayanokouji I know isn’t the type of person who would have voluntarily come forward publicly. That’s not his personality. Someone must have convinced him to do it. Am I right?” Kanzaki pushed.

“I’m not so sure about that. I think he might be changing, little by little,” said Horikita.

Although Horikita wasn’t going to mention it, she had wished for Ayanokouji to appear as the general, and she was the center for her class because she had accepted his proposal. Of course, part of that deal was that Ayanokouji didn’t wish to actually have to appear on the front lines even in the later stages of the exam, so Ayanokouji wasn’t actually extremely far removed from the Ayanokouji that Kanzaki knew, after all.

“Are we done here? I’d like to focus on the exam,” said Horikita.

“I suppose,” replied Kanzaki.

An announcement was made, declaring the beginning of the discussion, and Horikita lowered her eyes to her tablet. She then selected a new group from those assembled. The further the rounds progressed, the more naturally the participants’ roles would be exposed over the course of conversation. However, the more exceptional the student and the better they were at conversing, the better they tended to be at hiding their role.

On the other hand, the opposite was true for students who were poor liars or who didn’t find conversation to be their forte. Representatives could either choose students who were difficult to unmask, or they could deliberately choose students that were easy to unmask. Preferences varied depending on the representative. The match was basically decided once the representatives chose who to assign into their groups of seven.

Discussion No. 1

Participants

Class 2-B

Ijuuin Wataru, Sudou Ken, Miyake Akito, Ichihashi Ruri, Onodera Kayano, Nishimura Ryuuko, Matsushita Chiaki

Class 2-D

Watanabe Norihito, Yonezu Haruto, Sumida Makoto, Aragaki Itsuki, Iguchi Mashiro, Himeno Yuki, Ninomiya Yui

Horikita had chosen a group of seven who were well suited for debate and who could fight, with a group made up of students who were calm, students who were gutsy, and students who had a poker face.

On the monitor, she could see the fourteen students take their seats around the round table, as they were instructed. The participant’s respective tablets placed at their seats now displayed what their assigned roles were. Both representatives would check everywhere and everything over the monitors, poring over the available information to see if there were any students behaving suspiciously or if any of the participants made eye contact with a particular student.

However, not a single student acted in such an obvious way; all of them acted appropriately and reliably, looking around with a straight face. Horikita suddenly felt a surge of unexpected happiness when she saw Sudou on the other side of the screen, keeping his expression calm. In the past, he would have been a completely inappropriate choice of candidate for a group like this. Sudou had grown quite a lot over the past two years, and for a moment, Horikita was enveloped in a warm, almost parental feeling. She continued to watch over Sudou with stern affection, though she also kept her eyes on the entire discussion group as the five-minute period counted down.

Perhaps because many of the students in the discussion were on the safe side, few of them let anything slip even though it was their first round of debate, and so Horikita and Kanzaki both chose to pass. Little progress was seen in that round or the next, which resulted in only two students being ejected from the room by the model student. However, the representatives couldn’t just sit back and watch forever.

Then came round three. Miyake, who came forward and announced that he was a graduate, said that Watanabe was a model student. Inevitably, that resulted in a debate with Watanabe, who denied the assertion, and it was now time for the third nomination.

A pass here was highly likely to entail a great degree of risk, but at the same time, it was also an opportunity. The first point to consider was whether or not to trust Miyake, the self-proclaimed graduate. Kanzaki determined that Miyake was the graduate and nominated Watanabe as a model student. Horikita, on the other hand, concluded that Miyake was a model student, and that Watanabe was something else, and so nominated Miyake as a model student. The two representatives, both forgoing a pass in order to act on their opposing conclusions.

“Announcing the results. Horikita-san identified Miyake-kun as the model student, so Kanzaki-kun loses three Life Points. In addition, because Kanzaki-kun has nominated erroneously, he will lose one Life Point.”

With only a slight difference in judgment, a sudden change was brought about, resulting in the Life Point totals going from seven-to-seven to seven-to-three. The results showed that Miyake was a model student and that Watanabe was not. Now, there was only one model student left. The participants realized something from this development. Unlike in other, similar games, this discussion wasn’t limited to cases of someone coming forward and announcing their role, and the situation might not unfold as expected.

The only risk for a position holder in coming forward themselves was the risk of being nominated. Also, as it was extremely difficult for the model student to win, another strategy could emerge if someone holding a position could be nominated by the representative or even themselves, so that they could access information for their own convenience. Miyake seemed to have indicated a plan for going for that reward this time. However, the main focus was the special exam, and only the special exam. The real goal was to have the representative win, rather than have the participants get Private Points from their victories, and by having those who hold a position come forward and announce themselves, it stimulated discussion and prevented stalling out.

This series of nominations had a tremendous impact on the next round, largely because Miyake’s exit clearly caused Ninomiya to be severely and visibly shaken. She was so obviously upset that anyone would be convinced that she wasn’t acting. She was another model student, and Horikita and Kanzaki nominated her as such without hesitation. As everyone expected, it was established that Ninomiya was a model student. This discussion was a quick turnaround that ended with a win for the average students.

“…May I speak with you for a moment?” asked Kanzaki.

Kanzaki, who had lost four points in the first discussion, called out to Horikita as they were moving on to the next discussion.

“What is it?” asked Horikita.

Horikita, taking a quick glance at the ten-minute interval countdown displayed on the monitor, braced herself for the possibility that Kanzaki was intending to try to shake her up mentally. With a mysterious, meek look on his face, Kanzaki pushed his chair back and stood up. Then, he walked over to stand in front of Horikita.

“I have a favor to ask of you. I understand that it is bizarre to request something like this, but my class is in a situation where we cannot care about appearances anymore. Please, I’m begging you, will you please hand over victory in this End-of-Year Special Exam to us, Class D?” asked Kanzaki.

Horikita had intended to deal with whatever came out of Kanzaki’s mouth calmly. However, what he had said was just far too unexpected. It was a request she hadn’t even remotely considered.

“Are you being serious? I’m sorry, but I find what you just said to be unbelievable,” said Horikita.

Asking someone to lose on purpose for you, in a serious head-to-head confrontation, in an important special exam that would determine the class rankings? The idea was easy to understand, but it was a request that would take time to process. Was it perhaps an intentional statement then, made upon the understanding that it couldn’t possibly be accepted? Suspecting as much, a stern expression appeared on Horikita’s face.

“Yes, I’m sure it’s true that what I said sounds like an erratic statement. But I am serious. We in Class D are at the end of our ropes. If we lose in this End-of-Year Special Exam, the gap between us and the top class will be definitive. You could very well say that if we lose, we’ll have passed the point of no return,” said Kanzaki.

If Sakayanagi’s class won and Ichinose’s class lost, the gap between those classes would become so hopeless that Kanzaki didn’t even want to think about it. It would be so wide that even if Ichinose’s class earned dramatic victories in one or two special exams, they wouldn’t make up the difference.

“Regarding this special exam, one aspect I am thankful for is that the losing class will not be docked Class Points. Which means that your class would still have a chance next year, Horikita. Even if Sakayanagi were to win by a reasonable lead, a year would be plenty of time for you to make up the difference,” added Kanzaki.

Kanzaki, who could no longer care about appearances, and taking advantage of this highly secretive situation they were both in, made a request that was devoid of all pride. Kanzaki bowed his head deeply before Horikita to prove his sincerity.

“This isn’t something to which I can just say, ‘Yes, okay, I understand, I’ll hand it over to you,’ just because you bow to me. For the sake of argument, if this were a person-to-person exchange, then sure, there is a possibility that we could work something out. But this is a class versus class battle. Just as you are fighting for your class, I am fighting for mine,” said Horikita.

“Yes, I understand, of course,” said Kanzaki.

“If you understood, then you wouldn’t have started by asking for a favor that couldn’t be granted in the first place,” snapped Horikita.

“I understand, but I don’t have any other choice,” replied Kanzaki. “Of course, I don’t intend to ask you to hand over your victory for nothing. I will most definitely do what I can to make up for it. I could constantly provide support and backing for your class in our third-year battles, Horikita. I’m sure that normally you might not trust someone on that, but if it’s coming from Ichinose of all people, then I’m sure you can trust us.”

Kanzaki brought up the name of his own class leader, offering it up as though it were a guarantee.

“Yes, it’s true that Ichinose-san may not be the type of person who would betray us very easily. But that kind of statement would only be effective if she herself put that into words and made an appeal to me personally, not if you’re using her credibility to negotiate your way to victory, no? Besides, do you even have her permission in the first place?” asked Horikita.

“That’s—”

“If you lose here, Kanzaki-kun, then that means that Ichinose-san will inevitably come forward. If this conversation were to happen at that time, then it would be much more viable. But the fact that it’s not happening that way suggests that this conversation is all an arbitrary move on your part, right, Kanzaki-kun?” she asked.

Kanzaki merely cleared his throat in response to such an obvious point.

“You’re not even the leader of your class. And making some arbitrary guarantee of your own accord that you’ll fully back us up next year? That’s absurd. Even if it wasn’t, there is absolutely no conceivable way I would trust you on that,” added Horikita.

“Ichinose is…not the type of person who could ask someone to hand over a win, regardless of what she really feels deep down. But I’m certain that she feels the same way that I do, she just can’t say it. With Ayanokouji waiting ahead for us in this situation, we don’t even have a one-in-a-million chance of winning!” replied Kanzaki.

If Kanzaki were to pursue the win, then he would need to not only beat Horikita by any means necessary, but also reduce Ayanokouji’s Life Points as much as possible. However, at present, he hadn’t even been able to wound Horikita, which put him in a predicament.

“You certainly hold Ayanokouji-kun in very high esteem,” said Horikita.

“Yes. Ayanokouji is quite formidable. Which is why the outcome is already as good as settled,” said Kanzaki.

“I don’t like it,” snapped Horikita.

“You don’t like it? What? I’m just telling you the truth.”

“I’m not saying it’s not the truth. But I don’t like it.”

Seeing Kanzaki so quickly accepting defeat made Horikita disappointed and angry. Yes, it was certainly true that she had a powerful ally behind her. And usually she’d be grateful for the fact that her opponents were in terrified awe of him. Even so, Horikita tried putting herself in Ichinose’s position, thinking from the position of a classmate.

“You are undervaluing Ichinose-san, your class leader. The moment that the details of the special exam were announced, I thought that she would be a more formidable enemy than anyone else. Her friendships and powers of perception cannot be underestimated. She might be a more troublesome opponent than even Sakayanagi-san or Ryuuen-kun,” said Horikita.

Kanzaki, despite having settled into the position of adviser for his class, trusted Ichinose less than anyone else. Ichinose, though, surely trusted Kanzaki and had entrusted him with the position of center. That was why Horikita didn’t like his attitude.

“If you ask me, I’d say that things are still equal in this situation,” added Horikita.

“Equal. Equal, huh? I wonder about that,” replied Kanzaki.

It seemed that Kanzaki wasn’t going to change his mindset one bit, despite what Horikita said.

“Let’s end this now. Continuing this conversation any longer would make me uncomfortable,” said Horikita. She shot him a look, her gaze saying, “Hurry back to your seat.”

However, Kanzaki stayed still.

“I can’t… If we lose, this really will be the end for us!” pleaded Kanzaki.

“So you’re going to continue with your meaningless whining?” Horikita responded, keeping her voice even. However, deep down, she felt a slight ripple on the surface of her heart.